


For the Love of God

by sugarandvenom



Category: 16th Century CE RPF, Christian Bible, Religion & Lore - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Secret Relationship, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29006247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarandvenom/pseuds/sugarandvenom
Summary: We all know the story of Martin Luther, the catalyst of the Protestant Reformation. But what if there was something more going on within the palace walls between Martin and the prince who hid him?
Relationships: Frederick III/Martin Luther
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue 

It was midnight when I heard of my dearest friend at risk of being executed by father. 

And at 12:34 am, I opened the castle gates to find Martin Luther, hair looking windswept and clothes dirtied, standing right outside with a hardened, but pleading look on his face. 

“Prince Frederick,” he whispered. Brown eyes filled with ninety-five fragments of his heart that would rain upon my kingdom and slice it apart.

I am weak.

I pulled on his arm and led him to the back of the garden to hide. It didn’t matter that I had no idea why he was here, I would let him in the palace doors every time.

In my heart.

In my chambers.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter I - January 1521

To this day, the second bed in the thirteenth bedroom of the fifth floor of the palace is close to my heart.

Martin lies there now, carefully drawing up the second draft of Thesis Thirty-five through Forty-five and paying no heed to manners or the spots of ink peppered upon the bed sheets. My heart, against my weak will, swells at the sight of the brown curls flopping over his forehead and the carelessness of the whole image. He scribbles with the ardor of a true Christian. I want him to be as passionate as he likes around me. If nowhere else.

I must remember the reason I am hiding him here. 

I turn to my own papers, now. Pushed to the sides are the titles for me to read given by my father (“A prince must value his learnings above all else, for a kingdom flourishes most under the enlightened gaze!”). In the center are the notes Martin’s trembling hands gave to me the night he arrived to inform me of the new Lutheranism teachings. I can not help but see the date at the top, 1517. Like he knew, back then, that this year would go down in history and he wished to mark it. 

I think that he is right and the public will remember this date for generations.

Rather, I had a feeling most peculiar that I would remember the nights spent with Martin Luther in 1521 AD most vividly for the rest of my life. 

I took a breath.

“Luther.”

His head rolls lazily back to blink at me.

“Yes, my prince?” 

“Come for a stroll around the town with me.”

What did I just say? A stroll? How could it be so?

“Frederick? How on earth? I cannot accept. I would surely get caught.”

Of course. But I paused to consider. A moonlit walk around the shops and the sleeping livestock that filled the kingdom could be most spiritually filling. With such a holy man beside me, it would be good. I could wear ragged clothes, and dress Luther in the same. Common men trying to feel the light of Jesus in the stars and moon. It is not uncommon.

And, I thought, this is a wonderful chance to be closer to Martin. 

“I insist. It is not outside my abilities to dress you in common-clothing. I will do the same. Together we can experience being under the stars and the moon; I know this is rare for you, and we may pray to Christ in a more holy setting for your physical salvation.”

Martin’s head tilted to the side. My eyes followed the curve of his cheekbone and the sculpting of his facial features unwittingly. 

But he turned his sharp brown eyes upon me and agreed to come.

Now I approach him with brown faded cloth and my hand reaches to measure him properly. Hand to shoulder. Hand to abdomen. Hand to waist.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter II - 1517

A royal servant came through my door as I was sorting through the orders to be carried out for the month ahead. He was holding a newspaper. 

“Your Highness! There is bad news, very bad news-“ he quivered. “A heretic is gaining power. Ninety-five These, he claims to have, and people are taking interest! They defy the Catholic Church! The word of Christ is being questioned and people are turning their backs on you and our Lord!”

I close the distance quickly and he hands me the newspaper. One glance, and I gasp. 

I look up for my eyes to meet the servant’s, looking filled with fear and attempted composure. 

“Servant! Get away from here, I must attend to this… issue. Away! Away!” The servant scurried off as I huffed and turned to open the news further. 

For on the front was a drawing of a man whose face I had glimpsed, touched, once upon a time, years ago; and whose figure approached me in dreams long after. ‘Tis the face that is now forbidden for me to regard affectionately. Emperor Wilhelm I - my father - being threatened by his ideas. 

Martin Luther. 

My hand absentmindedly traced the lines of his face as I prayed that he would live. That I would live through this. That my faith would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get a glimpse into the events of the past, before Martin arrived at the palace... how did Frederick first fall?

**Author's Note:**

> Will be updated once a week, comment suggestions for what you want to see happen between them!


End file.
